


In Battle We Stand

by Lonaargh



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Battle at Ostagar, Crossover, Gen, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 23:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/pseuds/Lonaargh
Summary: Captain William Laurence and Temeraire prepare for the battle at Ostagar. King Cailan is sure of it, his plan will work and the Blight will end there.





	In Battle We Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JungleJelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungleJelly/gifts).



> Dearest Junglejelly, I wish you the bestest ever birthday! Have some Temeraire and DragonAge.
> 
> A million kisses and thanks to Stilienski for being an amazing beta.

Captain William Laurence pulls his coat closer around him, trying to keep warm in the freezing rain that started pouring down on the army a few moments ago. He shivers in the torch light, nerves set on edge by the angry barking of the Mabari warhounds next to him. 

Behind him several priests of the Chantry bless his crew, chanting softly. Laurence murmurs the words along under his breath, inhaling the scent of burning incense.  
"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,  
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.  
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.  
Within My creation, none are alone."

“Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me  
Greater than mountains, towering mighty,  
Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels  
From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow.”  
Temeraire’s deep voice rumbled below him, finishing the verse for him.  
“Do you think the Maker was really bigger than a mountain?” The dragon asks ponderously.

“Some might think it’s blasphemous of you to even question it, my dear,” Laurence answers, patting his friend on the neck, “But nobody but Andraste herself know the truth, I suppose. Let’s pray that we won’t meet the Maker during this battle, my friend.”

“We might die of boredom, if nothing happens soon,” Temeraire sulks, squinting his eyes against the pouring rain in an attempt to see more. 

On the other end of the field they can see the burning torches of the approaching enemy army. A lightning bolt lights the sky for a moment, allowing them to see clearly what awaits them. Darkspawn. 

“I had quite hoped to see this Archdemon, to be completely honest,” Temeraire goes on, “I wonder what kind of creature it is. People say it’s a dragon, possessed by a corrupted soul. It makes me wonder if I could have been such a creature myself, if you hadn’t stumbled on my egg when you did.”

“Be glad there is no Archdemon here,” Laurence admonishes him gently, “A true Blight is nothing to make light of.”

“I suppose you’re right.” There’s still a twinge of sulk left in his voice, but Laurence decides to not push the dragon further. There are more pressing matters to think about. The bulk of the horde is now in front of them, waiting for something. Some sort of signal, perhaps?  
He can hear the nervous muttering of the crew behind him. They are probably fairly safe on Temeraire, seeing how Temeraire is the only dragon in the army and the Darkspawn are very unlikely to expect an attack from the air. But still, if this is a true Blight and the Archdemon shows up, there’s no telling if Temeraire will be able to fight this creature. 

Duncan, the Grey Warden, and King Cailan walk up to them.

“This plan will work, your majesty,” Duncan says, and Laurence wonders if Duncan is saying this to assure himself or the king.  
“Of course it will,” Cailan scoffs, “the Blight will end here.” Such confidence, in such a young man. “And how can we lose, with such a magnificent and glorious being such as Temeraire here on our side?” Cailan’s voice is lighthearted as he winks at Laurence and Temeraire.

Laurence doesn’t answer. The Darkspawn army approaches slowly through the fog, ominous and threatening. A chill runs up Laurence’s spine and a foreboding feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.

The baying of the dogs gets louder and even Temeraire seems to be getting nervous, shuffling slightly. Although it might also be anticipation for the upcoming battle, knowing Temeraire’s eagerness to dive into the fray.

At the head of the enemy army, a Hurlock Alpha steps up. He’s clearly visible in his metal armour, the wet rain shimmering in glare of the torches. A few of the men of Cailan’s army unconsciously take a step backward, intimidated by this grim and vicious creature. The Darkspawn are visibly riled up, but they’re still being held back. Even from this distance Laurence can hear their growls and blood curdling cries, making his hair stand on end.

Then, the Hurlock roars and the horde is unleashed. Like a giant wave of locust they burst forward towards Ostagar, hurlocks, genlocks and orcs, tumbling over each other in their bloodthirst and single mindedness to slaughter each and every single one creature that dares to stand in their way.

The ground underneath their feet trembles and the noise from the horde is deafening. From the corner of his eye Laurence sees Cailan frown, blanching away momentarily before getting himself together and remembering his role as commander.

“Archers!”

In front of them the archers light up their arrows and aim up in the air, waiting for the sign to release. And when the sign comes, the arrows fly true and straight. 

“Makes you think of fireflies, doesn’t it?” One of the crewmen behind Laurence comments, making this tense and gruesome moment strangely poetic.  
“If fireflies rain down on you from the sky and melt through your eyeballs as they hit your skull, sure,” a veteran fighter replies absentmindedly, ruining the moment.

The arrows rain down death and devastation, but the waves of Darkspawn don’t even seem to notice. They don’t even hesitate, they simply keep coming.

“Hounds!”

The dog handlers release their charges and the hounds bound away, fierce and elated to finally sink their teeth in their monstrous opponents. Laurence looks away and winces when he hears the first cries and yelps of loyal dogs meeting a grisly fate on the rusty blades of the Darkspawn. 

“We will avenge them,” Temeraire says, flawlessly sensing Laurence’s sentiment.  
Laurence nods, not saying a word.

All eyes are on Cailan.

The king, in his gleaming gold armour, raises his sword to the air.  
“For Ferelden!”

Temeraire needs no further encouragement, he pushes off and is in the air within moments. The crew on his back ready their bows and start picking off the Darkspawn on the ground one by one, saving perhaps one of their allies’ lives for every monster they kill.

Even up here in the sky the noise is deafening as the two armies below clash. There’s screams, yells and roars. 

“Look out! Incoming projectile!” Laurence hears one of the crewmembers yell. Temeraire swerves to the right and a giant rock soars by, barely missing the crew by inches.

“Temeraire, look lively, they’ve armed the trolls!” Laurence shouts. Temeraire doesn’t answer, but Laurence feels the dragon nod. 

For a while, the armies are evenly matched. Temeraire’s crew does some significant damage, but not as much as they would like with all the dodging Temeraire has to do. 

Then, the sign they had all been hoping for. The beacon lights up!  
“Heads up!” Laurence cries out, pointing at the tower.

He looks down eagerly, fully expecting to see Cailan’s plan go into motion.

“Laurence, something is wrong!” Temeraire says and the panic in the dragon’s voice is tangible. Because below they don’t see the other half of the army attack. They see the army, the vital element of the plan, retreat.

 

“What is Loghain doing?” The crew spots it now as well, worried voices raise up from behind Laurence.

“It’s probably part of the plan,” Laurence tries to assure them. But he doesn’t believe the words he utters either.

“Incoming projectile!” His crew cry out again. Temeraire prepares to evade again, but then, “Friendly fire! Take cover!”  
Before Laurence can comprehend what’s happening, he hears a sickening crack and tearing sound behind him. Temeraire cries out in pain and for a few heartstopping seconds, they plummet towards the ground before Temeraire regains altitude.

Laurence looks around, searching for confirmation that his crew is alright. But instead of a few wounded men, his eyes find nothing but the remnants of a few straps and Temeraire’s bleeding, raw skin.

“Laurence, I’m so sorry, I had to evade a rock coming from the Darkspawn, I never expected our own army to-” Temeraire stammers.

“It’s not your fault, my friend,” Laurence answers hoarsely, “we were betrayed and I- Oh, Maker. No!”

Below, a giant ogre grabs Cailan. Laurence sees the king writhe in the beast’s savage grip. Then the monster squeezes. And the body of Cailan, King of Ferelden, goes limp. Through blurry vision, Laurence barely makes out how the ogre tosses the body of the king away like a discarded rag doll.

“Laurence, the king!” Temeraire cries out.

“There is no time,” Laurence shouts, “We have only one chance. The Grey Wardens, Temeraire! We have to save the Grey Wardens!”

From the corner of his eye he sees Duncan sinking his blades in the neck of the monster that slew the king. He also sees at least a dozen Darkspawn surrounding him.

Duncan glances up at them and frantically waves them away.  
‘Leave me’, the gesture says, ‘Save yourselves’. 

“Head towards the tower of Ishal!” Laurence urges Temeraire, “We might still have time!”

Temeraire doesn’t answer, but Laurence can feel that the wound on his friend’s back is hurting badly. They need to get out of here fast.

As they near the tower they can see a petite figure throwing herself against a mighty ogre, her battle cry audible even this high up in the sky. For a moment Laurence fears the worst, but then, against all odds, he sees the ogre topple over. Dead.

“They’re still alive!” He shouts at his friend, just as the door of the tower bursts open and Darkspawn pour in. 

Temeraire swoops down, but just before he can grab the heroic woman who just brought down an ogre, she falls to the earth. From her chest protrudes an ink black arrow. 

The other Grey Warden cries out in futile rage as Temeraire's talons close around him and his fallen companion.

“Where to, Laurence?” 

“The Korcari Wilds, my dear. I know someone who can patch these heroes, and you, up”.

~~  
The next morning they flew off towards Orlais, to warn the rest of the Grey Wardens of Loghain's treachery.

“Will they be alright, Laurence?” Temeraire asks, anxiously.

“Flemeth will take good care of them, as she has done for you as well,” Laurence says and he runs his finger over the bandage on Temeraire's back.  
“And beyond that, their fate is out of our hands.”

Far below them, the future Hero of Ferelden stirs. Forever unknowing about who truly saved them, and as such, the world, from the Darkspawn.


End file.
